Cloe Graves and the Mask of Rangda
by the BugSlayer
Summary: Cloe Graves has always been socially isolated, living with her grandparents in the small town of Brixham. So when a mysterious letter arrives, it is certain her life will change. But for better or for worse? A separate story from the books. Enjoy this new group of young witches and wizards as they explore the world of JK Rowling and the magical world of Harry Potter.
1. Chapter 1: An Owl in Brixham

**Welcome reader! If you are looking for your favorite character smut/fluff this is not the story for you. This is a story I started for a completely different group of kids who also happened to go to Hogwarts. This story takes place during the same year as the Chambers of Secrets but that is not what the story is about. This is a story about four first years, a forced friendship, and overcoming personal struggles.**

 **So please, read, enjoy. Though I am borrowing Rowling's world, this story is helping me learn to write plots and characters. I would appreciate any feedback you would be willing to give me as it will only make my writing better.**

And now, without further ado...

* * *

 **Cloe Graves**

 _and the  
_

 **Mask of Rangda**

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 **Chapter 1**  
 **An Owl in Brixham**

The summer had always held an air of mystery and unease for the only grandchild of Mr. Louise Barkley. Young Cloe Graves was always of the opinion that Halloween was more suited for the summer holidays, or more specifically, the day before school started back up. She always felt a growing sense of dread around that time of the year that could never be met.  
Not that Mr. and Mrs. Barkley found this much of a mystery at all. Their granddaughter was not much of the academic type, and friends her age seemed almost an impossible task for Cloe. The couple could not understand it. She seemed to get along fine with the older folk in their little community in Brixham, England.  
"Do the other children bully you?" Mrs. Barkley asked her for what must have been the millionth time since Cloe started attending school.  
"They don't." Cloe shook her head once again. "We just don't get along is all." Mr. and Mrs. Barkley couldn't argue, or even find it all too surprising. They had always entertained the possibility that Cloe was a witch, the same as her late mother. And the odd things that seemed to happen around the wiry, frizzy haired girl almost confirmed it. This was one of the biggest reasons she was living here with her grandparents instead of with her father in London. Mr. Graves was quite sure he was incapable of holding a job and raising a young witch all on his own.  
Cloe herself was fine with this. She much preferred the peaceful fishing town of Brixham to the bustling hive that was the London that had been described to her. She herself only had vague memories of shapes and smells of the place, since she had been very young when she had lived there in the past.  
And now, the important age of elven, she was ancient and much too old to concern herself with wherever she might have lived back when she was two.

And the story begins. A young witch in Britain at the age of elven, it is all too obvious what happens next.  
It was an exceptionally rainy day in late July. The only break in the constant downpour had been for an hour in the afternoon just a bit before supper. And of course, Cloe snatched the chance up in an instant and rushed out to the wet slicked streets. Not that she was dry at any rate. The girl had been running back and forth between her house on the upper floor of an apartment building, and the martial arts dojo across the street. She fancied herself quite the master, learning from her grandfather in their spare time. The truth of it was, she was no more skilled then the first day and going nowhere fast from there. But she enjoyed the time with her grandfather all the same.  
But the rain had stopped now, and she was anxious to get out into the open air. Her boots thudded heavily on the road, echoing between the walls of houses before disappearing into the clouded sky.  
After a rainfall was one of the best times to go down to the docks. That was when the most interesting things washed up, and the sea was still calming down, which was always a sight to make time for.  
Soon, the buildings began to thin and Cloe found herself with an open view before her, stretching out to the horizon, the waters dancing powerfully into the distance. She thudded out over the wooden docks to the end of the pier, rolling up her sleeves to let the ocean breeze warm her scrawny arms that made her hands look unnaturally large by comparison. Then Cloe sat on the edge, feet dangling, and began to scan the water.  
She was looking for anything that broke the surface. A cool stick or debris from a capsized boat. It was all worth looking at. Something soft pushed against her arm and Cloe looked to see one of the stray cats that lived in Brixham, purring for attention. Cloe happily obliged. It was a shame her grandma was allergic to cats. She would have loved to have one that was actually her own cat, instead of just a stray that would be fed by anyone.  
Cloe turned her gaze out to the water again, only to immediately catch a glimpse of movement. It was not in the water, but above it. A large bird was flying straight for Brixham. Cloe sat up a little straighter, narrowing her somewhat bulbous eyes to try and make out what it was. As it flew closer, it's features shaped more and more to look like one of an owl. But surely, her mind was playing tricks on her. Or so Cloe thought. What kind of owl would be flying over the ocean in the middle of the afternoon?  
But as it swooped over her there was no mistaking it to be anything other than an owl. And a rather large one at that. There was also something clutched in it's talons that might have been a fish, but it was gone before Cloe could decide for certain, disappearing amongst chimneys and finally dipping into the streets. Rather close to her house surprisingly.  
Cloe abandoned her sea bound post immediately, giving the cat one last scratch under the chin before taking off back up the drying slopes to her street. Sure enough, the owl had passed through. It could still be seen flapping away in the distance, now barely more than a speck before disappearing out of sight once again into the grey storm clouds, which were growing to look rather foreboding as they had before. And, accordingly, a large fat raindrop hit the edge of Cloe's nose, and the rain began once more.  
It was already thundering by the time Cloe had crossed the few yards to her house, and ran up to her grandparent's apartment. She closed the door with a slam, breathing in exhilaration from the sudden dash. Mrs. Barkley was by the stove in the kitchen just off the doorway. From the smell that was filling the house stronger than usual, it was buttered noodles again. Mr. Barkley had been in the process of getting out of his seat to get the mail, or more accurately, the newspaper, but his back had started complaining and he seemed stuck, half out of the chair and half in it.  
"Cloe, grab me the paper there will you?" Mr. Barkley asked, sounding very relieved at his granddaughter's timely arrival. Cloe picked the newspaper up along with the other mail, which was piled at her feet, bringing it over to set on the unstable shelf standing next to Mr. Barkley's worn chair. Then, routinely, she turned to Mr. Barkley and gave his back a firm hit for her size. It was just enough to loosen his muscles and let the old man sink back into his chair with a sigh of contentment. He slid the newspaper out from under the other letters and opened it with a rustle of pages.  
Cloe picked up the other letters and waved them about lightly, watching how the separate envelops bended at different degrees from the motion. "What should I do with these grandpap?"  
Mr. Barkley hummed, already lost in the black and white pages.  
"Oh, I'm expecting an invitation from Mrs. Robinson this week," Mrs. Barkley called from the kitchen, though she barely had to raise her voice. "Check through it for me, Dear, then you can just toss the rest. All it is are adverts these days…" her mumbling dropped off as Cloe thumbed through the smaller pieces of mail.  
"Nothing from Mrs. Robinson, grandma, just a bunch of- Grandma, this one has my name on it." There, across the yellowing parchment and scrawled in green ink, were the words:

 _Ms. C Graves_  
 _Apartment 3_  
 _Egmont Road_  
 _Brixham_

Cloe pulled the old looking, unusually thick letter from the others and hurried into the kitchen.  
"Does it now?" Mrs. Barkley turned from the noodles, wiping wrinkled hands on her apron before taking the letter from Cloe's outstretched hand. "So it does, no return address, how irresponsible." She flipped over the letter. "Ah, well it was about time wasn't it. Louise! Louise her letter came!"  
"Eh?" Came the disgruntled reply of someone who had just been drawn from a rather exciting sports article.  
"Her Hogwarts letter Louise! Oh for lord's sake." Mrs. Barkley huffed, handing the letter back to Cloe. "Well go ahead and open it then, no need to stand at attention." Cloe took the letter back and stared at it for a second. It was the first time she had ever gotten mail that wasn't from her father or her old school friend who had moved to Africa a few years ago.  
The wax seal on the back was a bit of a trouble, but Cloe spared only of few seconds on it before opening the envelope and sliding the contents out.

 _HOGWARTS SCHOOL_  
 _of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

 _Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_  
 _(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock._  
 _Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

 _Dear Ms. Graves._  
 _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed list of all necessary books and equipment._  
 _Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

 _Yours sincerely,_  
 _ **Minerva McGonagall**_  
 _Minerva McGonagall,_  
 _Deputy Headmistress_

Cloe had to read the letter twice. The first time she was to busy wondering what a Mugwump was to focus on anything else. The second reading was enough for her to get the idea. She looked up at her grandmother. "Hogwarts?"  
"That's the school your mother went to." Mrs. Barkley nodded, stirring the noodles inattentively. "Best school of magic in Britain. Only school, as a matter of fact."  
A number of questions ran through Cloe's head. Of course, she was aware of witches and wizards. Her uncle, a wizard himself, came to visit most summers for a few days, always bringing the strangest little things, moving pictures, flying brooms. It was all very interesting, but Cloe had never thought that she would be a witch herself. Well, she had hoped, but it seemed a far off reality, as much a possibility as one day sprouting fins and becoming a mermaid. And she would have preferred to become a mermaid, so she spent little time fanaticizing about becoming a witch.  
Cloe fished out another piece of paper from the envelope and read that as well. It was a list of supplies as promised, but the items on the list were most peculiar, including a wand, a cauldron, brass scales, along with an assortment of book and uniform specifications. The girl looked around at the shabby little house, furnished with the bare necessities and a few odds and ends picked up over the years. Cloe wasn't sure how much this equipment would cost, but she was quite sure they would have no way to pay for it all. Not to mention, the list had some rather peculiar items on it.  
"Louise, you'll have to get a hold of Robert sometime soon to take Cloe to get school supplies." Mrs. Barkley called to her husband.  
"Alright, alright." Came the dismissive response of someone who had just reached the comics section.  
"And see if you can get a few months' allotments early, no doubt things will be much more expensive then it was back it their day."  
"Grandma, what's a Mugwump?" Cloe asked absently.  
"I haven't a clue." Her grandmother replied.  
"Oh."

* * *

 **And that's the first chapter! It starts out a little slow, but I already know the next chapter will be more exciting. This story is still in progress. I have planned the outline, but the chapters are still being written so feedback now will definitely shape the outcome of future chapters, so let me know what you think of it!**


	2. Chapter 2: The Eyes Move

**Chapter 2**  
 **The Eyes Move**

It was a week before Uncle Robert made it to Brixham from wherever he had been traveling in recent months. How Mr. Barkley contacted him always remained a mystery to Cloe, but somehow, a few days into August, Uncle Robert arrived at their doorstep. He was ragged, with mud covering his dark gray cloak and a bit more of his left ear missing than was usual. But the same toothy smile was on his face as he ruffled Cloe's hair, making the frizz even worse.

"How are ya springbean?" Uncle Robert asked as usual before moving off to greet his parents, not even bothering to hear Cloe's answer. "So the kiddo got her letter. Good to know we don't have a squib in the family."

"Robert, behave yourself." Mrs. Barkley berated him.

"Sorry ma." Uncle Robert scoffed, accepting the thin wallet that was handed to him. "Alright, you ready to go springbean? Got lots to buy and I got places to be." Cloe nodded and hurried to follow Uncle Robert out the door, returning briefly to give her grandparents a tight hug before leaving again. There was still a good month left before she would be heading off to Hogwarts, but she didn't know how long it would take to get all the supplies, maybe a few days.

"Have fun Cloe." Mrs. Barkley said lovingly.

"And don't let Robbie waste all the cash alright? He's horrible at budgeting." Mr. Barkley clapped her on the back.

"I will Grandma, Grandpap." They gave her one last squeeze and let her go to follow after Uncle Robert, who was standing impatiently just outside the door.

"Finished being all lovey dovey?" He asked with a sigh. "Good now we can leave. Hold on to my arm now. Tightly so you won't fall off." Cloe threaded her arms around her Uncle's in slight confusion.

"Why?" She asked hesitantly.

"Well you've never Apparated before have you?" He chuckled. "It'll be a bit scary at first, but as long as you don't let go of my arm, you'll be fine." Cloe held onto his arm a little tighter. Uncle Robert slid a long stick out of his pocket, looked about very thoroughly, and waved his wand.

A sudden crack sounded and Cloe felt as though she was being quickly squeezed through a series of narrow tubes. All her insides seemed to be squishing and pulling in ways they weren't supposed to and she was thoroughly panicking. But she could still feel Uncle Robert's arm under her tight grip. Then quite suddenly, she was somewhere else, standing next to her uncle and feeling very nauseous.

In fact, Cloe was so busy trying not to throw up, that it took her a very long time to notice where she was standing.

They were standing at one end of a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight. Along the sides were a multitude of shops, filled with strange merchandise: Cauldrons, books, cages of owls or toads, odd-looking instruments for stargazing and the like. The people outside the shop were a sight all to themselves, all covered in bright colors and long cloaks: Feathers, hats, on man had an extra hand on the end of one arm.

Cloe had to jog to catch up to her uncle, who had not bothered to make sure she was following. "Uncle Robert," she pulled on his sleeve, her nausea quite forgotten. "Where are we?"

He looked down at the shorter girl. "You've never been to Diagon Alley before?" Cloe looked up at her uncle's shocked and somewhat dismissive face and looked down again.

"Well, I have." She lied. "I just forgot the name of it."

"Right, hand me the list of school supplies, I need to figure out which of these we can cut out."

"Cut out? Isn't it a list of necessary items?" Cloe looked up at him in alarm.

Uncle Robert waved his hand ambiguously. "Necessary is more of a vague term if you ask me. This is more of a guideline. Like look here," He pointed to the piece of paper, though it was too high for Cloe to see it. "You don't need three sets of plain work robes. And a winter coat you can just say you lost yours, or your dog set it on fire or something and they'll drag an old one up from somewhere. Protective gloves, scales… most of this stuff we can haggle for real cheap at some second hand stores. Now, you'll definitely need a wand." He stopped and looked around at the signs above, sticking out at various heights into the street. "There we go."

Cloe followed her uncle down the street, eyes following the fancy sign that read 'Jimmy Kiddell's Wonderful Wands'. Though the outside of the shop was bright and designed to get your attention, the inside of the shop was unusually quiet. Cloe looked around at the stands and displays of wands that filled the store.

The only person besides Cloe and her uncle was a young man who looked to be in his early twenties snoring behind the counter.

Uncle Robert walked up to the counter and rapped it loudly with his knuckles. The man shot up with a small yelp and looked around in a daze. He quickly saw the customers and got his bearings, pushing impossibly thick glasses further up his nose.

"Y-yes sorry about that, how can I help you?" He stammered, getting off his stool to come around into the rest of the store. "Looking for a new wand I take it?" He peered down at Cloe. "First year at Hogwarts then? What a treat, well we've got just the wand for you little lady, this here's a-"

"What's the cheapest wand you've got?" Uncle Robert interjected.

The man paused and sighed. "Working on a budget I take it. Of course you are. Everyone else goes to Olivanders except the Muggleborns. Right then," He went back behind the counter and pulled up a large bin of sticks that hardly looked like wands at all. "Here's our discount bin. Well come on, don't just stand there, take a look. We'll see if we can find one with the more mediocre defects." Cloe walked up to the bin and peered at all the different wands. Many of them looked severely damaged. She didn't know much about wands, but Uncle Robert's was very straight. These, on the other hand, were not.

"What kind of rubbish are these?" Uncle Robert pulled a face, picking up one wand that was bent almost at a right angle.

"You asked for the cheapest." The man shrugged. "This is the best price you'll find. One Galleon a piece."

"One Galleon?"

As this exchange continued, Cloe continued to shuffle through the bin. Then her eyes landed on a short little wand. Though it had a bend somewhere near the top, the ends were pointing the same direction as each other, which was more than she could say for some of the others.

"What about this one?" She spoke up, holding the wand up for the men to see.

"Ah yes," the shop worker nodded. "That one is one of the better discount wands if I do say so myself." He plucked the wand from Cloe's hand and examined it with a craftsman's eye. "14 inch, Yew, Unicorn hair, slightly springy."

"Unicorn hair?" Cloe repeated. "From a real unicorn?"

"But of course!" The man laughed, flashing his best salesmen smile. "Yew wood makes quite powerful wands as well."

"Hold on now, that isn't 14 inches." Uncle Robert scowled.

"Yes, well it was." The man snapped back. "It just got a little bent up in the making! Performs flawlessly though… well…" he scratched the back of his neck before handing it back to Cloe. "It may have a bit of trouble with dark magic, unforgivable curses especially. Part of the unicorn hair got knotted up somewhere in the middle I think… But that shouldn't be a problem for you, now would it? No need for a little first year like yourself to be using dark magic! Tell you what, you take this little beauty off my hands and I'll throw in a free repair coupon, free of charge."

"I'm starting to think a Galleon is too much for this piece of driftwood." Uncle Robert grumbled fishing a large golden coin out of his pocket and slamming it on the counter. "Let's go springbean. We've wasted enough time with this junk." Cloe clutched her new wand tightly and hurried after her uncle, almost tripping over untied bootlaces on the way out.

The rest of the items on the list were gathered through much haggling and more bin searching. The second hand shops were all notoriously unorganized.

They had managed to get all the items except the winter cloak and the extra pairs of uniforms (they were expensive even second hand), a familiar since they were optional, and any books on the list written by some wizard named Gilderoy Lockhart. You couldn't find any of them second hand and Uncle Robert swore he was a sham anyway and refused to pay him money for anything.

Lunch seemed to be a wash as well, but at that moment, Uncle Robert conveniently recognized an old friend in the Leaky Cauldron and stopped for a chat.

Cloe resigned herself to the boring fate of a long wait for them to finish talking. Then, to her surprise, Uncle Robert and his friend ordered three meals, which they scarfed down between bites. Cloe finished hers just as quickly. As soon as the last bite was off his plate, however, Uncle Robert looked at his watch, exclaimed something about the time and excused himself, dragging Cloe along after him. Just before they left to enter Diagon Alley once more, Cloe caught sight of the bartender approaching her uncle's 'friend' with the bill. But they were gone.

Cloe wondered to herself if she should feel bad for leaving without paying, but she also liked not feeling hungry so she decided this one time it wasn't so bad.

"Alright, springbean, we're almost finished up here, I got one stop to make real quick. It's not in a very pleasant shop unfortunately, but just don't touch anything and it'll be fine." Her Uncle informed her before turning down into a narrow alley with a sign that read Knockturn Alley pointing to it.

The contrast between this road and Diagon Alley was drastic. Everything in this place was dreary and reeked of evil. The people were no different. Cloe followed behind Uncle Robert closer than ever, wondering what he could possibly want in a place like this and hoping that whatever it was would be taken care of quickly so they could get out.

They didn't stop at all, but headed directly to a store with the sign Borgin and Burkes above the door. The inside of this shop was even worse than the street outside.

There were no lights, save for the soot covered windows, and the only sounds inside were the creaking of old floorboards, though there didn't seem to be anyone around. The shelves and glass cases were filled with skulls and other ghastly looking artifacts. Skeletal hands sat on cushions and large items sat tucked away in corners, faded price tags hanging from various locations.

Uncle Robert headed quickly to the counter; reminding Cloe not to touch anything he'd be finished soon. Cloe began to look around meekly as a slimy looking man came out of the back, rubbing his hands together as he came to do business.

Cloe did not like how many skulls and heads were around. Even less did she like how small they were. Something about them unnerved her and she felt almost certain that they were not fake. All along the walls were gruesome pictures and horrifying masks.

And what was worse, one of them looked like it was watching her. A thoroughly repulsive thing with large fangs, goggling eyes, and a long tongue that protruded out for a length. Small pupils were set into the large eyes that seemed to be looking straight at her. Cloe stared back for a moment before wandering else where to examine an emerald necklace in on the of glass cases. It was quite pretty to look at until she red the sign below that read 'Caution: Do not touch. Cursed – Has claimed the lives of nineteen muggle owners to date.' She backed off slowly. On the whole, she decided there was nothing in this shop she would actually have any interest in, so she wandered over to her uncle, standing behind him as he finished his business. The mask's eyes had followed her.

She hated looking at it, but at the same time, Cloe felt that if she tore her eyes away it would strike. It was far too long that Uncle Robert finally concluded his business with a handshake, stuffed something into his pockets and turned to go smiling down apologetically at Cloe's uneasy face.

They quickly left the shop, bells jingling eerily as they opened the door. Cloe glanced in the shop window one last time before they passed and almost shrieked in alarm. The mask was there, pressed up against the other side of the window and staring at her. Cloe stared back horrified, creeping away slowly after her uncle. There was no mistake about it now; those eyes were staring straight at her. Gulping, she turned after her uncle and ran, grabbing his sleeve and pulling him out of the dark alley as fast as he would let her.

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 **Oooooh the foreshadowingggg scaryyyyyyyy :o**

 **Please leave a review below! It'd make my day :)**


	3. Chapter 3: The Hogwarts Express

**Chapter 3**  
 **The Hogwarts Express**

Cloe stared at the golden ticket in her hand that read Platform 9¾ in fine letters. The last month of summer had gone all to quickly, while at the same time managing to drag on for what felt like ages. Yet, as time always does, the dates moved ever forwards and Cloe found herself awake on the first of September.

By the end of today, she would be at Hogwarts, where all manner of new experiences awaited her.

Not that she would admit it to anyone, but the whole thought was a little daunting. She liked living with her grandparents. And if this school were anything like her past experiences, she would be finding herself very lonely this year.

Mrs. Barkley was more than happy to help Cloe pack the school supplies she had bought in Diagon Alley weeks ago. Her grandmother was fascinated with the books especially, some of which, Cloe found, had little moving illustrations on some pages. She had tried to get some reading done over the last month to hopefully prepare herself for what she was about to deal with. The only thing she was certain about, however, was that the wizarding world was very different from her life here in Brixham.

"You'll have a excellent time." Mr. Barkley assured her from his usual chair. "Your mother and uncle both did when they were your age."

"Robert didn't want to come back." Mrs. Barkley shook her head with a fond, but exasperated smile. "Middle of spring we got an owl knocking on our window with a letter from him saying he'd decided to stay and not to expect him back for the summer."

"Your mother sent us another letter a few days later telling us not to worry, she would be dragging Robbie back by the ear if she had to." Cloe laughed at her grandmother's impersonation of her mother's voice.

Mr. Barkley smiled. "Well looks like your finally starting to relax. That's good. It'll be an adventure Cloe, and you'll enjoy yourself."

"I'll write to you two as often as I can." Cloe promised.

"We'll be looking forward to it." Mrs. Barkley nodded. "And you can tell us all the wonderful spells you've learned."

Uncle Robert met them at King Cross Station to see her off, slipping a crumbled piece of paper into her hand and giving her a wink. She stuffed it in her pocket to look at later and helped load her luggage onto the cart. The trunk that held all her supplies was large and heavy, full of books and school supplies. Even with all of this, she felt wholly unprepared as she walked with Uncle Robert down the long platforms at King's Cross Station.

"Alright, so just run at the wall between platforms 9 and 10 and you'll find yourself at platform 9¾." Her uncle instructed, pointing at the large brick pillars in the center of the two platforms.

"Just run at it?" Cloe repeated. Between Apparation and now this, she had gotten the impression that wizard's methods of transportation were not very pleasant.

"You'll go straight through I promise. And I'll be right behind you so don't worry." Her Uncle prodded her forward encouragingly. Cloe pushed her cart to face the wall, hand gripping even tighter as she braced herself for impact. She started jogging forward, cart gathering momentum as the wall loomed before her, and then it was gone. Cloe slowed to look around. She found herself in a bustling platform separate from all the others. Siting on the track was a beautiful old-fashioned engine, steam puffing contentedly from it.

Uncle Robert appeared rather suddenly behind her. "The Hogwarts Express. This does take me back. Come on, let's get you loaded up before the train leaves without you!"

Cloe pulled her luggage onto one of the trains towards the end that were still empty, bumping into several people on the way there. There was absolutely no way she could get her trunk onto the rack alone, so she put it on the floor under her feet and looked around. It was a tiny compartment, with room enough to sit four people, six if you really squeezed. Someone rapped on the window and Cloe looked out to see Uncle Robert wave goodbye. She waved back as he disappeared into the turning mass of people.

Cloe watched the sea of unknown faces before slacking back into her seat with a sigh. This was going to be a very lonely year. Then the train whistle blew and the people outside the window started drifting by as the Hogwarts Express began picking up speed. And the people disappeared completely, left behind in a cloud of steam.

Only a few minutes had passed, however, when the compartment door shot open and three much older students came in carrying on loudly. Until one of them noticed Cloe and asked if it was okay if they could sit here. The small girl nodded, mumbling something about leaving anyway and wrestled her trunk past the students and into the narrow hallways.

Now that she was paying attention, Cloe noticed that almost all the students looked older in this train car.

"Are you lost?" Someone asked, passing by her in the hall. "First year's car is three down." He said, pointing further down the train.

"Great thanks." Cloe replied, hurrying in the direction indicated with her trunk bumping behind her.

She could tell when she had gotten to the right car. It was quieter, and a nervous edge sat on the air. Everyone here was in the same boat as she was. Maybe she could find someone to talk to on the way there. The train ride was a long one according to Uncle Robert.

Suddenly a black kitten darted down the corridor, throwing Cloe off balance as she attempted to avoid the small feline. She fell face first through an opening door, landing haphazardly on the person who had just opened it. Cloe scrambled to get off the girl who was shrieking in dismay.

"Sorry!" Cloe cried immediately. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, I tripped over the-"

"I was trying to keep these robes clean too!" the other girl pouted at her now wasted efforts, standing to brush as much dust off her backside as she could.

"Now I'm going to have to change into other robes. You should really look where your walking kid!"

Cloe raised an eyebrow at the term 'kid' this girl looked just as old as she was. "I already said sorry. What more do you want?"

"Well you don't seem very sincere about it!" The girl snapped back furiously. "Ugh, just got out of my way!" She clambered over Cloe and her trunk and stormed furiously down the hall, mumbling unhappily under her breath.

"Don't mind her." Cloe looked up in surprise to see another first year with the brightest red hair Cloe had ever seen. "I'd bet anything Viola will end up in Slytherin." Cloe stood up herself, looking over at the girl who had just stormed away before turning to this new witch. "My name's Ginny Weasley, by the way." The red head smiled, closing the worn book in her lap.

Cloe smiled back timidly. "Cloe Graves, nice to meet you… um, sorry, but what do you mean she'll end up in Slytherin?"

"The four houses, oh your Muggleborn aren't you?" Ginny perked up slightly. "My dad loves muggles, fascinated with them actually…" she shrugged in a sort of embarrassed way. "Anyway, Slytherin is one of the four houses you can get sorted into at Hogwarts. Though everyone knows anyone in Slytherin is going to go bad eventually." Ginny mad a face, before replacing it with her polite freckled smile. "Do you want to sit down? It's a long trip to sit through alone."  
"Thanks." Cloe smiled in all too obvious relief. She hadn't even reached the school and it looked like she had met someone who might want to be her friend.

Cloe lugged her trunk in and, with Ginny's help, managed to get it onto the rack above. Both flopped back on the bench huffing to get their breath back.  
"So, the four houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin." Ginny said, launching right back into her explanation. She seemed rather excited to be explaining this all. "Gryffindor is the brave, Ravenclaw the clever, Slytherin is supposed to be ambitious and all, but their really just evil, and Hufflepuff is the kind. I'm hoping to get in Gryffindor. Everyone in my family's been in Gryffindor for generations. I don't know what I would do if I was in Slytherin. My brothers would tease me horribly." As this realization struck her, Ginny's happy demeanor fell and her words stopped.

"Well… maybe we'll both get put in Gryffindor." Cloe tried to lighten the mood.

"I hope so." Ginny beamed again.

The rest of the train ride passed in a most enjoyable fashion for the two girls. Cloe found Ginny's explanation of things in the wizarding world much more enjoyable than anything she could read in her schoolbooks. Ginny as well was more than happy to tell this new girl about such ordinary things and see the wonder on Cloe's face. Then they would reverse roles and Cloe would tell Ginny about her life in the muggle world.

They changed into their school robes as night began to fall. Stars slowly started peaking out of the indigo horizon. The two girls had begun talking more about themselves and their families. They both came from similar backgrounds when it came to money, but Ginny's family was so large, Cloe could barely imagine what life in their household must be like. Noisy, was the first word that came to mind.

"Harry Potter came to our house at the end of the summer." Ginny mentioned in passing. "I still can't believe he's friends with Ron of all wizards." One thing Cloe noticed was Ginny's slight obsession with this Harry person. And when prompted, Ginny was more than happy to launch into a lengthy explanation of how he stopped the dark lord when he was just a baby, and then again just last year, and how he's so good at Quidditch, and his scar really looks like a lighting bolt. It went on quite a long time really. And if Cloe hadn't met Ginny just that day, she might have pointed it out.

She did, however, think that she would be very lucky indeed to be in the same house as such a famous person. Gryffindor was sounding better by the minute.  
Then the train lurched, grinding loudly on the tracks as it pulled to a stop by a long platform. They had arrived at Hogwarts.

* * *

 **If you have a moment, I'd love the feedback. This is my first time letting people read something so different from the original story so I'm a little nervous on how it's turning out :\**


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